


Fear in a Handful of Dust

by Hesiones



Category: Grisha Trilogy, Shadow and Bone, Siege and Storm, The Grisha Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesiones/pseuds/Hesiones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stories about Alina Starkov and the Darkling. The Grisha trilogy is written by Leigh Bardugo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weary

I have decided to check on her again tonight.

My old bedchamber. A huddled figure lies on my bed, making the blankets rise and fall with each breath she takes.

Alina Starkov. Sun-Summoner. Saint. The savior of the benighted peoples of Ravka. A little seventeen-year-old girl. The candlelight flickers over her as if - even when she sleeps - it is drawn to her.

Her mouth is opened slightly as she breathes in sleep. A few tendrils of brown hair lie over her face. One has found its way between her lips. Wanton flutters fill my lungs. It is generally accepted that a Grisha can only have one power. Well, she has two. Her Sun-Summoning, and Heartrending.

I slip the skin of that Tracker over myself. But he is not a Tracker anymore - he was “dishonorably discharged” from the army. A pity. Now he loiters around, drunk and bruised, a hangover storming in his head. I can’t help but take satisfaction from that. He is no Grisha, let alone one of mine or Alina’s powers. He will one day fade. I have been living for a very, very long time, and Alina will too.

I slip over to the bed. Reaching out an unfamiliar hand, I brush those limp tendrils away, behind her ear. Stars flush up my fingers and into my lungs.

My lips touch her brow, her eyelids, her forehead.

Then I touch them to her lips, and my heart pumps erratically, cantering. Stars shoot haphazardly around my mouth. I whisper hoarsely: “Alina.”

She stirs. I lower my face to kiss her throat. Such soft, soft skin.

Alina is still drowsy. She stiffens, but relaxes and wraps her arms around me. Pulls me closer. She is inebriating.

“I missed you, Mal. I missed you so much.” Somehow, I jolt awake. Mal. The Tracker. Of course. I am wearing his appearance, his skin. I shouldn’t be surprised. Not at all. Something hard slips into my blood again.

I just continue to kiss her, placing my mouth on hers as she slides her arms up to my neck. She exhales into me. I can’t help but lean into her. Without moving her arms from my neck, she glides her hands over my arms.

I kiss her throat again, then her collarbone. I feel a sudden anger that this is but a shadow of who I am, this is not my body, I am not actually here. I lay prone in a tent near the Fjerdan border, trying to sleep.

Alina holds me tighter to her. I respond with the same action. I haven’t realized till now that I have snaked my arms around her waist. Heat rushes through my chest, and hers.

She releases her hold on me and cups her hands around my chin, tilting it up so she can see my face. Ah. She has found it.

I did not change my eyes to those of Mal’s when I donned his appearance. Alina must know that she has been holding in her arms the person she abhors the most, instead of her dear young Tracker boy. That she cannot forget that some part of her still belongs to me.

She recoils, sheer terror in her blue eyes. Somewhere inside my old, old self, something sends a dull pain instead of the honeyed, sparkling champagne I have been fed during the last few minutes. I smile coldly.

“I missed you too, Alina.”

Alina freezes. I reluctantly withdraw my right arm from beneath her and lay it on her right cheek. As dark and light play on her tense face, I almost catch my breath. She really is lovely. I rethink giving her another kiss.

“Soon.” I murmur. Alina shrieks. I disappear and wake up, limp in my body. Dull pain turns to jagged streaks of agony. I knew what she would do. I wanted her to do that. But I didn’t. It hurt.

Weak. Love makes us weak. Wanting makes us weak.

After eons of life, I should think that I am strong. But I have overestimated myself. And underestimated Alina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries* Alarkling has been ruining my life - THIS PART OF THE BOOK MADE ME SUPER ANGSTY AND I READ IT OVER AND OVER AGAIN WHAT THE HECK.


	2. Grim

When she turns with tears running down her face, he feels a pang. But he overcomes that. Joy and jubilation are a wildfire through him.

As she steps forward, he unconsciously opens his arms to her. When she crosses in, he holds her tight. She looks up into his eyes. Her own eyes are a calm, placid sea of blue and gray. She was always easy to read. She is resigned, ready to do what it takes to save her comrades. The depths of her devotion to her friends is well known to him. She is his. Her boy yells and shouts her name as he is dragged away by her own grieving guards.

“My power is yours,” she states. The shimmering gold of her dress (shot through with blue) reflects warm light on her walnut brown hair. She rests her hand on the nape of his neck. He bends his head down and kisses her. Ecstatic power rushes through both of them, courtesy of the stag antlers he put around her neck a few months ago. But it is not only the power that fills him with such raw longing and elation. He is enveloped in her scent, her embrace. The taste of her mouth is the sweetest of nectars. Lightning causes his heart to beat fast, erratic. It courses through him and sets off sparks from his lips to his feet.

He may as well stop lying to himself. He loves her.

Her sweet, soft lips move against his, whispering something that he cannot discern in his heated daze. The movement causes shivers, thrills in his mouth, and he molds his lips to hers, kissing her with everything he has, everything he is.

It is, therefore, no wonder that he senses life draining out of him a second later. His surprise and anguish are a mistake. But he feels both anyway as he staggers back, already missing the touch of her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, these chapters aren't in chronological order as relative to the books, they're just in the order I wrote them.


	3. Small

Alina is slightly hunched over her horse, thin strands of dust brown hair drifting listlessly in the brisk winter breeze. She’s always like this; she’s always had those dark circles, those sallow, spotted cheeks. Her eyes are always glazed over – clouds fogging the sky – no matter how direct or cutting her gaze is. At times like these, her movements are slower, her head is held lower.

Yet her words are sharp. Her wit is not nearly as dulled as her physique. Hardly. Her eyes observe, keen and astute, behind their haze and the gauzy curtain of hair. Because others overlooked her, she watched them. I’ve seen it often, in many different people.

Appearances can deceive most. To the masses, she won’t look like a Sun-Summoner. But she is the only known, living Sun-Summoner, so nothing else is important.

We turn a bend in the trail. I turn my attention to the front again. She’s noticed me looking at her. The only sign is a small shift of her hair.

If she wasn’t always shouldering that burden – whatever it is – she’d look less tired. Prettier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Shadow and Bone.


End file.
